


Queer-Platonic

by shalako



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Agoraphobia, M/M, Mr. Gold/Dove isnt even a valid tag in this fandom, Referenced Childhood Sexual Abuse, Referenced Incest, Self Harm, bi Gold, extremely close not quite platonic friendship, if albert spencer is in a fic of mine hes bad, referenced past noncon, this isnt necessarily Gold/Dove but still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 01:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalako/pseuds/shalako
Summary: AU where Gold is dealing with agoraphobia, and his employee Dove helps him get by. Drabbles exploring their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, Dove. The big bald guy from that one episode in season one who was never seen again. Tbh I'm not sure where we as a fandom even learned his name, cuz I don't think they said it in that episode, but he's always kind of intrigued me. I love fics that even acknowledge Dove's existence and I like that almost everyone has given him a gentle giant personality and made him a friend to Mr. Gold. So I finally decided to write some short drabbles all about Gold and Dove.
> 
> Spencer snuck in there because I hate him :)

Dove knew Gold about as well as anyone could, which wasn’t saying much. He knew that Gold wouldn’t eat breakfast or lunch no matter how much Dove coaxed him, and he knew that maybe it wasn’t wise to coax him in the first place, because Gold had been sick for a week the one time Dove managed to convince him to eat some toast. He knew that Gold sometimes went days without eating, which was terrifying, but he also knew that if he kept a granola bar on him at all times, he could usually convince Gold to break those fasts, so long as he only tried it in the evening, when Gold’s stomach wasn’t as likely to fight back.

And he knew a bit about how Gold sometimes slept with the lights on, or didn’t sleep at all. He knew a bit about Gold’s personal relationships, had fielded calls from his father and ex-wife, and even read a letter from Gold’s mother when Gold couldn’t bring himself to do it. There were things Gold told him willingly -- extremely personal things -- and there were things Gold kept locked up for years, things Dove only discovered by accident.

He closed his eyes and saw, just briefly, a boy’s bedroom, the bed unmade, the toys dusty, and heard an echo of Gold’s voice, faint and angry, saying,  _ What are you doing in there? _

Dove knew Gold. They’d been working together for seven years. Supposedly, Dove was Gold’s hired muscle, but he and Gold both knew what his real purpose was. There were days when Gold couldn’t leave the house, or couldn’t drive, or couldn’t go to the grocery store -- days when attempting those tasks might cause a panic attack. Or what Gold insisted  _ wasn’t  _ a panic attack, but definitely looked like one.

On those days, it was Dove’s job to do what needed to be done. Collect the rent, make phone calls and appointments, get groceries, see to repairs. No one in town had the slightest clue that Gold was agoraphobic, that he had been at least since Neal died (and most likely had been, on a lower level, for years before then).

* * *

“Dove?” said Gold, stumbling into the kitchen. His eyes were bleary and red-rimmed, like he’d been crying the night before and hadn’t washed his face. Dove took the kettle off the stove and poured hot water in and out of the two ceramic cups he’d grabbed from the counter. Eventually, he moved the cups to the kitchen table and sat down, confident that Gold would wake up a little and join him.

Gold blinked, rubbed his eyes, realized Dove was sitting down, and sat down too.

“It’s early,” he said, staring into his tea.

It wasn’t early. It was nine o’clock. Gold had missed his alarm three hours ago, and Dove had heard it going off from downstairs. When he’d gone up to turn it off, he’d checked Gold’s pulse just to make sure he was still alive, and then checked his forehead for a temperature.

“Not going to work today?” Dove asked, tone neutral. Gold grimaced.

“Don’t think so,” he said. His accent was rough around the edges.

“Want to talk about it?” Dove asked. He pointed to Gold’s forearms, at the fresh burn marks peppered across his skin. Gold looked down at them and winced, pulling his sleeves over them.

“Not especially,” he said, eyes sliding guiltily away. 

“Okay. Do you need a hug?”

Gold didn’t say anything for a long time, nor did he look up to meet Dove’s eyes. Finally, he gave a minute shrug. Gold never said yes to physical contact, even when he craved it. Dove stood and crossed over to Gold’s side of the table, pulling him into a warm embrace. Gold was getting thinner -- of course he was -- and his frame felt heartbreakingly small.

He leaned into the hug, face pressing into Dove’s chest. After thirty seconds -- Dove counted them, slowly -- Dove kissed the top of Gold’s head and pulled away. They weren’t lovers, that was for sure, but they weren’t just friends, either. Dove didn’t know how to define it, except perhaps as family. He took his seat again and sipped his tea.

“I’ll need a list of things you want done today,” he said. Gold reached out to his own cup of tea, wrapped his fingers around it, brought it to his chest in an effort to get warm. Gold was always cold, Dove had noticed.

“Understood,” said Gold.

“It’s not an order,” said Dove gently. Sometimes Gold forgot who gave the orders here, especially on days like these.

“Understood,” said Gold, voice softer than before. He sipped his tea once and then put it down carefully. “I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dove knew they were dating again, and he didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much he could do. He remembered what Gold had told them after the last breakup, when they were both still feeling triumphant, certain they’d seen the last of Albert Spencer.

_ He reminds me of my father. That’s why I’m willing to have sex with him, I think. It’s part of my programming. It’s how I was raised. _

Gold had a way of revealing chilling personal details like that, in a way that made Dove’s chest turn cold. Dove had already known about Gold’s childhood at that point, about the molestation, the incest, the friends of his father who had gotten … special privileges. But it had still been disturbing to hear.

_ I’m glad you have that kind of insight, _ he’d said finally. _ It means you won’t go back to him again _ .

As if.

Two years later, two full years, and Gold was coming home from a night with Albert Spencer, and he had a split lip. Dove let Gold in and closed the door behind him, ignoring Gold’s watery smile.

“Tripped,” Gold said.

“Save it,” said Dove. He pulled Gold into a hug and held it for as long as he could, until Gold started to squirm. “Did you eat last night?”

“Yes,” Gold said. Definitely a lie. He was already heading toward the stairs, leaning heavily on his cane, and Dove could tell he was trying not to sway.

“Hang on,” Dove said. He came over, stopped beside Gold, who was staring at him with a frown, and crouched down. “Get on my back.”

“Oh, Dove--”

“Come on,” Dove said, wiggling his fingers. With a sigh, Gold climbed on, his cane pressing into Dove’s shoulder, and Dove carried him up the stairs. Gold’s fingers tightened on him on the first stair and didn’t ease up until they were well into the second-floor hallway. “Scared of heights,” Dove said.

“No,” said Gold.

“Wasn’t a question.”

“Well, I’m not,” Gold said. Dove didn’t reply. He reached Gold’s bedroom and set him down, then sat on the bed next to him, making the mattress dip. Gold lost his balance and slid into Dove’s side, struggling to right himself.

“Put your pajamas on,” Dove said, one hand on Gold’s back to steady him. Gold obeyed wordlessly, peeling off his clothes from the night before, revealing thin hip-bones and visible ribs. With his pajamas on, he climbed into bed and sunk into the sheets. There was daylight streaming through the windows, barely blocked by the curtains, and Dove knew from experience that Gold preferred it this way.

He stripped out his own outer layers and curled up around Gold, pulling him close. Gold shifted closer to help him and then relaxed.

Gold couldn’t sleep on his own; Dove knew this, understood that this was the chief reason why Gold always got into bad relationships when he generally had enough insight to see they were bad. He needed someone to sleep with. His bed was full of pillows (and stuffed animals that Dove pretended not to notice, because he knew Gold didn’t want him to) and Dove had to shove a few of them to the floor in order to fit inside the bed with Gold.

“Better?” he asked when Gold’s head was against his shoulder.

“Mm,” said Gold, already half-asleep.

“I’ll need a list of stuff you want done,” Dove said. “When you wake up. I thought I’d go grocery-shopping today.”

“That can wait,” said Gold.

It really couldn’t, but Dove didn’t press the issue. He had Gold’s standard grocery list memorized.

“Get some sleep,” he said.


End file.
